"My life is about living for the relationships that surround me. They bring me joy and peace more than anything else; and, to me, these relationships, these loves, are sacred."
The summer before I moved to Spain, my life was a reflection of that statement. I lived in a small town with good friends; most mornings we'd gather on my porch for people watching, coffee drinking, and news reading. I talked to my mom everyday and she'd give me all the updates on the family: Lauren and the kids are visiting Liz in Grand Rapids; Grandpa has a cold again; Kristin might get promoted at work this month. When I was excited or sad or sick, I had people there to listen and understand, people I had known for years, who could tell that when I said, "I'm fine," I really meant, "I feel like crap, but I should suck it up." Certainly there were imperfect things in my life, but I knew my place in it all—I knew my role as a friend, as a daughter, as a sister, as a person.
And then, five months after I wrote my life view, I moved an ocean away from all of my closest relationships to live in a foreign country. One month after that, my mother, the heart of my family, the most influential person in my life, passed away. After that, I didn't know my own life for a while—and I kept wondering if I really even knew myself. Maybe I had put such importance on relationships because I'd been blessed with good ones—and if those were suddenly warped and distanced and taken away, who was I on my own?
Well, my 23rd birthday just rolled around, and I realized that, despite all the changes of the past year, I still find myself deeply invested in the relationships, new and old, in my life. Last Saturday night, I came down to the kitchen and found my roommate making me birthday cookies; they spelled out "Feliz Cumple Dani"—a thoughtful combination of an American treat with Spanish flair. A little later, the rest of our friends showed up with food and wine, prepared for an all nighter to celebrate with me. Two days later, on my actual birthday, every time I opened my email, I'd received another dozen well wishes from people all around the world: my family in Michigan, an ex-boyfriend in Iraq, college friends in Chicago, even acquaintances from middle school I hadn't talked to in years. Even though it was a melancholy day for me, I was cheered by the goodness of all those people.
The fact is, my life is different now, and along with that, my relationships are different: with my family, as we adjust to a new dynamic without my mom; with God, as I try to figure out how and why and when he intervenes in my life; with my friends, as we build and maintain friendships despite distance, despite plans and locations changing every few months. Sometimes these changes in my life seem radical and overwhelming, but I've realized that my connections with people are still vibrant and loving and comforting. They still bring me the peace and joy that make me who I am.
